Page 44 of The Prez

When I pull up to the clubhouse, most of the brothers are milling about, packing up for our weekend away. After I turn off my bike and lower my kickstand, I throw my leg over the side and head over to Jace. He and a few of my other brothers are staying behind to keep an eye on things.

I clap hands with Jace and my brothers, nodding at those that are busy but acknowledge me. “Afternoon, Prez,” Jace says. He nods to the others that are around him and gestures to them to give us some privacy. Once they step away, he says, “Zeke and Pete will ride with you to the warehouse to get the drugs packed and ready. The rest of the guys will be waiting for you all at the rest stop off Route 8.”

I’m glad he has that organized. Jace was the right choice to take Christian’s place as vice president. When I need help, I don’t have to ask for it—he’s already on the tasks I need him to complete.

The warehouse where we keep our drug and gun supply is deep in the Tennessee woods, only ranking members knowing where it is and are able to access it. With the shit that went down with the prospects that snitched on Rax, I’m glad it’s not common knowledge. If non-ranking members knew and let the location slip, we would be slapped with drug charges, maybe even RICO charges if the cops could spin it right.

I pat his shoulder. “Thanks, brother.”

Jace smirks at me, poking me in the neck. My hand flies up to smack his away and Jace laughs. Not for the first time, the brothers have been giving me shit for the hickeys on my neck. Omari and I can’t seem to stop marking each other,showing everyone that sees them that we belong to each other.

Do we really though? Knowing I haven’t told him everything, can I really say I belong to him? Omari is mine—mind, body, and soul. He shares everything with me. He’s an open book. There have been plenty of nights that he shared his insecurities about his weight, questioning if I really wanted him because of it. And every night he got down on himself, I was there to show him with my hands and my mouth that he was fucking sexy as sin.

He gave all of himself to me. Will I ever be able to do the same?

Shaking that thought away, I walk inside the clubhouse and clap hands with Zeke and Pete, waiting for Pete to get ready so we can go. He’s moving slow, his limp more pronounced. When he stands, I see a cut and a bruise under his eye. I reach out and grip his chin, turning his head so I can really see his face. He snatches out of my grip, his eyes downcast.

“What happened to you?” I ask, feeling anger rise in me. Is someone fucking with my brothers that I don’t know about?

“Nothing I can’t handle, Prez. Y’all ready?”

Zeke speaks up, shaking his head at me. “Yeah, bro. I’m ready. Shouldn’t take long.”

I decide to drop it for now, but I’ll revisit what the fuck is going on with Pete’s face.

The three of us ride over to the warehouse—me and Zeke on our choppers, Pete following behind in the club’s F-350.

Quickly, the three of us load up the drugs that will get the new chapter started with their dealings. They already set up connections in the local area and in Atlanta, taking some of the weight of distribution off Joker’s club, the Hell’s Demons MC. He’s been the main supplier for all the Atlanta area’sdealers, which puts a strain on him if he doesn’t have the product. With the new chapter, he’ll have some help and more people to transport the coke, pills and weed across state lines.

We get the truck loaded, hiding the shipments in the removable side panels and removable bed of the truck. Once that’s done, we head out, catching up with the rest of the brothers at the rest stop.

The ride to Hunterfield is peaceful, with no traffic and good weather. This is the ride most bikers love to take. The perfect day.

Even with the perfect weather, that sense of doom settles around me like a shroud. I’m not sure if it’s because even the weather is nice or because this is the type of weather Christian rode in when he had his heart attack. Is this grim sense because I’ll end up like Christian? Is there something after me?

Fuck, Little Raf doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve to have all of the people in his life taken from him. I’m glad I listened to Shane and had paperwork drawn up to add Omari as Little Raf’s guardian, not just his medial proxy. If something happens to me, Little Raf needs someone that will be good to him, someone that will take care of him and make sure he has a happy life.

Almost two hours later, we’re pulling up to the new chapter clubhouse. Unlike ours that’s set deep in the woods, this clubhouse is close to the city. It’s a smart position, in case there’s trouble, brothers can escape onto the highway quickly.

Cheering greets my ears from the members of the Hunterfield chapter, some brothers I know from Missouri chapters stepping forward. I park my chopper and hop off, clapping hands with them, some asking after Finn. After I assure them all he’s happy and living his best life in Cuba, Imake my way over to Joker, who is with the other members of the Hell’s Demons MC.

“What’s up, man?” he asks, looking me up and down. His gaze bores into me, trying to see into my soul. Then he smiles, punching me in the arm. “Holy shit. Who is she?”

“She what?” I grumble, pushing him away from me so I can greet everyone else.

Joker is not letting up and I’m starting to regret inviting him to celebrate with us. “The girl that’s got you glowing, brother.”

My bigmouthed enforcer ambles up, throwing his arm around Joker’s shoulder. “It’s his nanny. His name is Omari.”

“His?” Joker parrots, raising his eyebrows. “Well, that’s a development.”

“Drop it,” I growl, moving deeper into the clubhouse so I can have a look around. It’s set up much the same as ours, minus the stripper poles the old president of my chapter insisted we add. I think when we get back, I’ll have ours removed. This space looks miles better without them.

Of course, Joker doesn’t drop it. “Omari is a nice name. Really rolls off the tongue.” He stops short for a second, then looks at Zeke, who still has his arm around his shoulder. “Wait, nanny? You got a kid?”

I pause in my steps, turning around to look at him. “My kid sister died. I have her son. Is that a problem?”

Joker shakes his head, his eye softening. “Shit, brother. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

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